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Inside the bar.
The loud thumping music, the dazzling lights, the murky air, the frenzied crowd, the women in minimal or no clothing... all of it formed a small corner of Gotham City, the city of sin.
So when shouting, fighting, and smashing suddenly broke out, everyone was caught off guard.
Someone dared to cause trouble here?
Still, no one paid it much mind.
They assumed the troublemakers would be thrown out soon enough. Maybe even end up dead. That was how things usually went.
What they didn't expect was a one-sided slaughter.
Morin had deliberately changed into a suit, turning himself into a "suit-wearing thug" as he fought his way in. Anyone who tried to stop him was swiftly and decisively struck down and removed from the fight.
Morin didn't want to kill anyone yet.
He had just arrived. Going straight for the kill would be a bad idea.
Especially since his future plans required Bruce and Gordon to help him complete his money-making scheme.
If he earned the title of serial killer now... Gordon aside, Bruce definitely wouldn't cooperate.
Besides.
Even without killing anyone, the intimidation he created wasn't reduced in the slightest.
Because just as Morin was tossing an unconscious thug aside, someone finally opened fire.
And Morin remained completely unharmed.
Did he dodge it?
Did he take it head-on without a scratch?
Or did the shooter simply miss?
There was no time to think.
The shooter aimed again, preparing to keep firing.
This time, the gun didn't go off.
Before the trigger could be pulled, Morin grabbed a nearby bottle and threw it.
Headshot.
The impact was heavy enough to cause a concussion-like injury. The gunman dropped instantly, unconscious as he hit the floor.
Morin's gaze swept over the wine bottles scattered everywhere, and he smiled faintly.
Using the Sword of Eden wasn't appropriate. He wasn't planning to kill anyone this time.
As for using a wrench...
Did they even deserve that?
Morin didn't want to dirty his wrench.
These wine bottles, though.
They were just right.
A moment later.
Inside the bar, the crowd was trembling.
Dozens of thugs lay scattered across the floor. Many had bleeding cuts on their heads and had been knocked unconscious. Knives and guns lay useless beside them.
The frantic electronic music had stopped.
In its place was a rare silence for this hour.
So quiet that even a pin drop would be heard.
Some people had tried to run.
After Morin casually tossed a few glasses, cracking heads open and knocking people out, no one attempted such a pointless escape again.
"Is there no one left?" Morin looked around.
Anyone who met his gaze trembled and instinctively flinched.
His eyes felt godlike.
Under that gaze, their sins had nowhere to hide.
Morin noticed the reaction.
His conjecture was confirmed.
He was currently using his [Eyes of Justice].
What he saw was pure chaos.
Black smoke filled the bar, rising from both customers and staff. The density varied from person to person.
The smoke twisted and drifted, unaffected by space or objects. Yet whenever it drew close to Morin, it scattered and retreated.
As if it had encountered its most terrifying natural enemy.
Morin fell into thought.
"I'm using [Eyes of Justice] and [Aura of Justice]. It must be [Eyes of Justice] that lets me see this smoke, formed by sin, and [Aura of Justice] that forces it to retreat on its own..."
"So what about the [Heart of Justice]?"
"Is that what's making them afraid?"
He still wasn't entirely sure of its function.
"You," Morin asked, breaking his train of thought. "Who's in charge here?"
"..."
Silence answered him.
No one dared to speak.
Morin raised an eyebrow, losing patience. He walked straight to the person with the densest black smoke, snapped his fingers, and cast [Mind Control].
"You. Speak."
Mind magic was far easier against someone with a weak will.
Not to mention, Morin was still using [Aura of Justice] and [Eyes of Justice].
In gaming terms, the deterrent effect was nearly doubled.
Fear came easily. Hypnosis followed.
As expected, the man didn't last even a breath before falling completely under control.
"He is," the man said immediately, pointing in a direction.
Morin followed the gesture.
The crowd parted on its own, revealing a man with a stunned expression.
"You dare betray me!" the man shouted.
His voice was filled with disbelief.
He was Hugh Haas, the gang member responsible for managing this bar.
When Hugh learned that someone was causing trouble and it hadn't been resolved, he stormed down, ready to berate his subordinates.
Instead, he arrived to find every one of his people already taken down.
The moment he realized how dangerous this was, he thought about escaping.
Then he saw several people who had tried to flee earlier get knocked unconscious by glasses Morin casually threw.
He immediately abandoned the idea.
He had already sent a message to his superior.
All he had to do now was wait and make sure nothing went wrong.
When Morin asked who was in charge, Hugh's heart skipped a beat.
Then it settled.
In his view, no one with half a brain would expose him.
His superiors would find out.
Retaliation would be inevitable.
When Morin questioned the hypnotized man, Hugh relaxed even further.
That man was his right-hand man.
Someone who had taken the fall for him before and gone to jail without ever revealing his identity.
This was guaranteed.
A sure win.
That was what Hugh thought.
And then-
Hugh Haas clearly didn't understand the concept of "planting a flag."
He was like an old general standing on a stage, flags sticking out all over his back.
"Are you the one in charge of this bar?" Morin asked, walking up to him.
"...Yes."
The word left Hugh's mouth, and his eyes widened in horror.
He wanted to deny it.
But under Morin's gaze, it felt like a mountain was pressing down on him.
He had a clear sense that if he lied, he would die.
So the truth slipped out.
Completely beyond his control.
"Very good."
Morin adjusted his suit.
It hadn't gained a single wrinkle from his "suit-wearing thug" routine.
Then he took out a brand-new little notebook and showed it to Hugh.
"I'm with the GCPD. I've found that you're selling drugs here, so I'm shutting this place down starting today."
"Any problem with that?"
"A police officer..." Hugh's eye twitched twice.
This was trouble.
When did this cop show up?
Why didn't he know the rules?
Didn't he know even the police commissioner took bribes and turned a blind eye?
A rookie?
Hugh stared at the document and nearly cursed out loud.
Then he remembered how Morin had taken down everyone like a god.
He swallowed the curse.
Today's date.
A document effective today.
Which meant-
The man who dismantled the entire bar alone...
Was a police officer on his first day?
"Do you know who my boss is?" Hugh threatened.
"No," Morin said. "But I'd love to."
"This isn't a place for you to stir up trouble," Hugh roared. "Even your commissioner wouldn't dare do this. This is Carmine Falcone's turf!"
"You'll regret this!"
"Don't be so sure."
Morin grabbed Hugh by the collar and lifted him off the ground.
"Come on. Let's have a good chat."
"C-chat about what?" Hugh asked, panic creeping into his voice.
"As you can see, my document was approved today," Morin said calmly. "I'm a police officer who just started."
His voice wasn't loud.
But in the packed, silent bar, everyone heard him.
"I've also heard about the dealings between the police and you thugs."
"So I want to know."
"Which police officers made deals with which gangs?"
"...You're asking to die," Hugh thought, finally understanding.
"Even your own people won't let you get away with this!"
Morin changed his approach.
He decided to be direct.
Direct meant handing Hugh a nuclear bomb and waiting for his voice to trigger it.
There were too many people in the bar.
Staff.
Customers.
People from all walks of life.
And the question Morin asked was something everyone knew existed.
But no one knew the details.
What happens when something hidden is dragged into the light?
The dealings between the police and Gotham's gangs were the same.
Bribes.
Collusion.
Almost everyone knew.
But no one knew who, exactly, was involved.
If Hugh spoke under pressure...
If that information spread...
Once it hit the internet, it would spiral out of control.
Because the government needed to save face.
A city could lose credibility.
A country couldn't.
Otherwise, it would slowly rot away.
(Ahem. Pure fiction.)
"Their own people?" Morin sneered.
Within the police department, the only person he considered "his own" was Gordon.
"They won't let me get away with this?" he continued. "That's perfect."
"I never planned to let them get away with it either."
"And you," Morin said, lifting Hugh higher, his feet dangling. "You too."
"If you don't talk, you die right now."
"..."
Hugh struggled.
He still refused.
If he talked, even if Morin spared him, his death afterward would be far worse.
A fate where death itself would be a mercy.
"Alright."
Morin set him down.
He didn't rush.
Instead, he turned his head slightly.
He heard movement.
A large group had arrived outside.
"Let's have a good fight tonight..."
-
"Are you serious?"
Falcone stared at his subordinate.
"Y-yes," the man replied, his face bruised, body trembling. "All our people were taken down by him."
"He didn't kill anyone."
"He said if you don't come... he'll-"
"One person?"
"A police officer."
"You didn't use guns?"
"We did, but... he was like a devil. They were almost useless."
"Are you playing with me?"
Falcone grabbed a gun and pressed it to the man's head.
"Tell me."
"How did he dodge it?"
"Huh?"
"Show me how to dodge it."
"I-I-"
The man shook violently.
Warm liquid ran down his legs.
"Fuck!"
Falcone pulled the trigger.
He waved his hand, ordering the body and evidence cleaned up.
Then he paused.
After a moment, he picked up his phone.
"Beep. Beep. Beep..."
The call connected.
"What time is it?" a voice answered. "Is something wrong?"
"Are you trying to break our agreement?" Falcone asked flatly.